


We are the wild youth

by vampireinadeviltown



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I'm not used to writing from Enjolras' pov, M/M, don't be mean, so we shall see how that goes, this might get pretty long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireinadeviltown/pseuds/vampireinadeviltown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hand reached up and touched the place where Grantaire’s chapped lips had been and frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. He had no sense of boundaries and that unnerved Enjolras. He didn’t need Grantaire worming his way into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the wild youth

The cigarette that dangled constantly from Eponine’s lips was ripped out quickly as a grin broke across her face. This wasn’t something Enjolras was used to unless Combeferre was somewhere around.

“Oh shit, he’s back,” she said as she leapt up from the rocking chair on her rickety porch. “You just wait, this kid is going to change your life,” she promised Enjolras as a sun bleached vintage Volkswagen beetle stopped and started it’s way down the street.

Enjolras doubted this, but he’d let her entertain the thought as the beetle sputtered to a stop and various streams of curses were heard, muffled by the glass. What was it that his mother said? Swearing was for the unintelligent? He lived by that code for most of his life, but recently he had started to doubt it. It was a silly thing to hold onto anyway. Word choice was vastly unimportant compared to what one was doing with the words.

Eponine took the stairs two at a time until she came to a sliding stop and wrenched the door open. Enjolras thought that it might fall off of it’s hinges but instead, a boy with dark hair fell out and into Enjolras’ friends arms.

“‘Ponine!” He cooed as he kept the cigarette that was in between his index and middle finger pointing away from her so as not to burn her.   
“You didn’t tell me you were coming back today you little shit!” she said as she kissed him on the cheek.

“And miss your birthday? Never,” he said as he framed her face and kissed her forehead.

Enjolras didn’t know if it was the way he held his slight but obviously strong frame or if it was the smile that promised adventure, but he could tell that this boy was trouble, and trouble that he didn’t want.

“‘R, you have to meet Enjolras,” Eponine said as she took his hand and led him up the stairs.

The aforementioned “‘R” came to a stop in front of Enjolras with a cocky grin that infuriated him and nodded, “greetings and salutations,” he told him with an overconfident smile and Eponine snickered.

“A pleasure,” Enjolras said as he stuck out a hand but R all but bypassed that and hugged him tight as if Enjolras was an old friend that he had been missing.   
“R just got back from Seattle,” Eponine said proudly.

The way she had greeted him Enjolras thought he might have been in sub-sahara, Africa, fighting against the infant mortality rates. No, he was probably just bumming around smoking copious amounts of pot and playing a ukelele.

“So, is the party happening in Hoboken?” R asked as he looked Eponine’s house up and down.

She shook her head, “Combeferre is having it at his place in the city.

R smiled, “you used your womanly wiles on him, I take it?”

She started to blush, “no, I--”

“Better than Marius,” he said with a nod as he stamped out his dying cigarette and lit a new one.

Enjolras suddenly felt like an intruder, or the place filler until this fabled R had returned. On a deeper level he knew that wasn’t true, Courfeyrac was one of his best friends since as long as he can remember, but he was an alien here in New York. Well, New Jersey as it were presently. Courfeyrac had moved here for college and Enjolras had stayed back home, but now they had both finished and he made good on his promise to join his friend. Only, now his friend had friends, and he was on the outside no matter how much they welcomed him.

R walked inside the house and cast a look back at Enjolras, “did you find him at Freshman orientation or something?” He asked as he thumbed at his nose and took a deep breath.

“He’s a law student,” Eponine said as she jumped onto R’s back.

“A law student?” He questioned. “Well, I’ll have to get you on my side, huh?” He asked as he stopped spinning the pair around and Eponine dropped down to her feet.

Enjolras smiled tensely,”I don’t doubt that you’ll need my services, no.”

R’s smile dropped a little bit at the edges and it was in it’s absence that Enjolras realized how beautiful it actually made R’s face.   
“What’s R short for, anyway?” Enjolras asked.

“Grantaire,” he replied with none of his fire from earlier.

The pieces fell in then. This was Grantaire. The painter that had shows in New York that he never attended, the raucous and annoying voice on the other end of his phone calls with Courfeyrac. The one whose parents pleaded and begged for him to return home so he could get the help he needed.

Enjolras swallowed thickly at the discomfort settling in his chest and working its way up his throat. He felt privy to the past and problems of the man in front of him and it wasn’t knowledge that he had earned. It was tid bits of information that had fallen on listening ears, things never truly meant for him to hear.

 

 

The party was a success, Enjolras supposed. Eponine was thrilled and Combeferre was pleased. Jehan recited poetry that he had written especially for Eponine, ranging from raunchy to beautiful, and quietly in the corner Enjolras saw Grantaire nursing a bottle of Jack. He was quiet for the first time since Enjolras had met him this afternoon and he looked solemn as he watched the party go on.

Eponine spied him too and danced over to the corner, “aw, come on R, dance with me,” she said with a smile.

Just like that the scowl was wiped from his face and a grin had replaced it, any trace of worry was gone. From that simple movement Enjolras knew that this was not a man he could trust.

“Do you think she liked it?” Courfeyrac asked as he stood next to Enjolras.

“Loved it,” Enjolras assured. He genuinely believed it too. “So is he better?” Enjolras enquired gesturing to where Grantaire and Eponine were swinging each other around the living room. He was never truly sure what was wrong with him to begin with. It was a fact that seemed swept under the rug, there had been something wrong and now he was back and that was that.

Courfeyrac shrugged, “I hope so.”

 

 

The night seemed to drag on and before long everyone was wasted except for Enjolras.

“You know,” Joly said as he sat down next to him. “I think it’s high time you started to see someone. Being alone can’t be healthy.”

“I’m not alone,” Enjolras replied as he bumped shoulders with his friend and Joly smiled.

“You know what I mean.”

Enjolras shrugged, “I’m studying for the bar, I don’t have time for a relationship, you know that.”

“Then just have a raucous one night stand!” Joly exclaimed as he lifted his drink in the air.

“I’d rather not,” Enjolras replied.

He needed something more than nice eyes and a cocky grin. He needed someone he could connect with in a serious way. Someone he could talk politics with or literature. Something past how the Yankees were doing or how much someone could drink before they passed out. He wasn’t good with flings, never had been, and he had never been in a serious relationship before. It wasn’t that he had absolutely no interest in it, but the fact that he found other things more important. His future, was a prime example.

Joly frowned, which was an expression that never crossed his face unless he was worrying over some new ailment that he might contract from sitting in the sun too long or something of the like. “Suit yourself then,” he said before he hauled himself to his feet and staggered into the kitchen to pour himself another drink.

The vacant spot on the couch was replaced by a new form. “You don’t like me too much, do you?” It was Grantaire.

Enjolras cleared his throat, “I don’t even know you, how could I dislike you?”

“But you know of me,” he said as he leveled his gaze. Enjolras had no proper way to gauge how drunk the man next to him was, but he didn’t seem it.   
Enjolras simply shrugged, “well, we have mutual friends,” he said simply.

Grantaire smiled a little, “I’m not all bad, promise,” he said before he kissed Enjolras’ cheek and stood up again.

His hand reached up and touched the place where Grantaire’s chapped lips had been and frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. He had no sense of boundaries and that unnerved Enjolras. He didn’t need Grantaire worming his way into his life.


End file.
